A Convoluted Descent
by ShinkonoKokoro
Summary: If Merlin thought about it, he could maybe remember a time when he wasn't the prince of Camelot.   He had a mother. He remembered quiet, warm, and soft. And brown. He remembered brown.   But being the prince isn't easy. And sometimes leads to tragedy.
1. Chapter 1

If Merlin thought about it, he could maybe remember a time when he wasn't the prince of Camelot.

He had a mother. He remembered quiet, warm, and soft. And brown. He remembered brown.

And there was the journey to Camelot. It was fuzzy and hazy, but he was with Gaius then without so much as an explanation for why was he was suddenly living in Camelot at the age of four. And he'd never bothered to ask why if his mother couldn't be bothered with raising him herself.

Then there was Arthur.

Merlin had lots of memories of Arthur.

The first though...

Merlin blinked at the boy in the middle of a pack of squirming puppies. "I was just...looking."

"Well no one said you could," the boy said with a fierce frown.

He unconsciously lifted a hand to his own cheek where the boy's mark was. "I heard barking..."

The boy rolled his eyes. "Are you simple? This is the dog den. Of course there was barking."

"Are you okay?"

The boy stood, eyes flashing. "You're not supposed to be here. Who are you?"

"I'm Merlin!"

"What kind of name is that?"

"Well. What's your name then?" Merlin retorted.

"Arthur."

"That's the prince's name."

"Of course. Because I _am_ the prince, idiot."

"You're certainly not acting like it," Merlin snorted, crossing his arms. "You're more of a prat, aren't you?"

"I wouldn't know, Merlin..." The boy said pompously. "But it seems that_ you_, Merlin, are idiot enough to thing that you can get away with speaking to me like that."

Merlin snorted. "Just because you're the prince, doesn't mean that you can be a prat."

"You said that already. Is your vocabulary that limited?"

"I—" Merlin felt his face flush and when Gaius walked in on them later, he found the two boys on the floor, entwined, rolling one over the other, Arthur mostly pinning him to the floor. Uther later laughed at the myriad of scratches and bruises the boys gave one another. (Merlin had been taller, giving him the advantage, but Arthur had had the training. Giving him the bigger advantage.)

His next memory is of coaxing out the story that Uther had slapped him for misbehaving while in court.

The next memory after that is special. Merlin was seven. Arthur was maybe six. He found Arthur sulking up on the ramparts, knees curled up to his chest. A dog wriggled in his lap while Arthur stubbornly held on, expression broadcasting that he was comforting the pup, though it was clearly the other way around.

"Why do you always follow me?" the little prince asked, voice sullen and choked with previously shed tears.

"I..." Merlin shrugged a thin shoulder. "I saw you run off, and I wanted to see that you were okay."

"What _business_ is it of yours?" he scoffed but dropped his eyes to the side.

"I can cheer you up!"

"Oh really? And what could an _idiot_ like you do?"

"Magic! I'm magic," Merlin confessed with a grin.

"Uh-huh. And you're smart enough to go around telling the prince of Camelot that," Arthur muttered, brow furrowing.

Then Merlin squatted in front of him and spread his fingers, coloured lights dancing between them to form the images of men in a grand battle. He grinned at Arthur's sudden awed expression. However, the pup was quickly interested and Merlin found himself toppling backwards, dog slobber on his face before they were both running pell mell down the stairs after the errant dog.

Collapsing behind the throne, they laughed, breathless. "That _was_ pretty great," Arthur admitted, holding the dog to his chest.

Merlin grinned.

The next minutes he has trouble remembering properly because it got very confusing. The doors creaked open and then there were voices muttering about finding the prince and Arthur pulled him tight to him, shushing him with a finger to his lips. Unfortunately, that meant that the pup got squished between Arthur and himself and yelped. The strange men called out, "Who's there?"

This was where it got mostly confusing—Arthur tugging him down and making to rise, Merlin panicking, the dog getting loose, the men coming closer, Merlin shoved Arthur down and stepped, trembling, from behind the throne. The men stared at him hungrily, mumbling about the prince.

Merlin held Arthur in place with magic, taking a step towards the strange men, telling them in as confident a voice as he could manage, "You're not supposed to be in here. Get out."

Somehow this, predictably, did not end well, Merlin squirming in the arms of the strange men, panicking and yelling his fool head off.

Which brought the guards.

And Uther.

Who immediately yanked Merlin-who-looked-like-Arthur into his arms.

"You will _never_ touch my son again! Do you hear me!"

Even Merlin quaked in the king's arms.

"Take them to the dungeon. Let them rot there," Uther hissed. "And _you_," he transferred his attentions to Merlin. "What are _you_ doing in the throne room, Arthur. I specifically told you to stay in your chambers this afternoon!"

"Wait! Father!"

"_Arthur_?" Uther looked down at the boy in his arms and then the proud child standing by the side of the throne. "What... What is going on here?"

"I'm Arthur," Arthur said.

"And you?" Uther's gaze bored into Merlin.

Merlin squeaked.

"That's Merlin, father."

"You lie."

Merlin changed back immediately. And then stumbled to the floor when Uther flung him out of his arms.

"Sire! I just heard—" Gaius burst into the room just in time to see Merlin change from Arthur back to himself. "I—my—Sire?"

Uther sent a sharp glance in the physician's direction and then turned his piercing gaze on Merlin. "You. What was that?"

"It...I...it was just... I didn't—I wanted..."

"Enough," Uther said impatiently with a wave of his hand. "Out with it."

"He was doing it to save me," Arthur said proudly, even though Merlin could see his fingers twitching nervously.

"Arthur, be quiet."

"It was—"

"Hush, Gaius. Merlin was it? Explain. And be quick about it."

"M-magic," Merlin mouthed, the words barely more than air passing between his lips.

"I figured that." Uther's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Merlin could feel his life hang in the tip of a scales. Opening his eyes wide in an expression that had always gained him favour in the past, he held his breath and waited.

"Sire, he's just a _boy. _He doesn't—"

"Gaius! Hold your tongue," Uther snapped, lips compressing as he inspected Merlin, looking into him and saw his soul. "I'm thinking."

"Father..." Uther cut him off with a wave.

"You might be useful," Uther said finally. He straightened himself and gripped his hands behind his back.

"Usef-ful?" Merlin blinked.

"Yes. I have decided. You are to be Arthur's double."

"Double?" Merlin and Arthur echoed simultaneously.

"Milord," Gaius began.

"My mind is made up, Gaius. Make sure the boy is caught up on all of Arthur's current learning, and see that he is trained in the way of the sword. I want them equals by the end of the month. Can you see to it?"

"I...Sire..."

"Gaius."

"Yes, Sire?"  
>"You do understand what I am asking, do you not?"<p>

"I—yes, Sire. I will do as you have asked," Gaius whispered.

"And you, boy. You will be Arthur's double. You will swap places with him when I deem necessary, and you will learn his studies so that you may pass as my son. Can you do...that..._enchantment_ again to appear as my son?"

Merlin nodded.

"Do it. Right now."

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut, shimmered, and turned into Arthur.

"Impressive," the king murmured. "That will do. Change back. Right now. Go with Gaius. I want you to begin today."

And that was the beginning of his education.


	2. Chapter 2

At the end of the month, Merlin did, in fact, know a fair approximation of everything that Arthur had apparently learned. Despite Arthur's taunting of 'idiot' and Gaius' lamenting of him being a poor pupil. Merlin really had caught on quick, he discovered, when he was tested by Uther and found suitable. Despite his terrifying countenance and stern expression, Merlin was able to answer his questions adequately. (Uther had also demanded quite fearsomely that he pledge his life to Arthur, serving Uther unquestionably. And should his magic ever be used for a purpose that does not protect Arthur, he would be executed immediately.)

Thus began the pattern:

At the beginning of each day, Uther would stare the two of them down and then decide who would be who. As Merlin grew older, he learned that if Uther had heard even the fairest mention of a threat, Merlin would be Arthur for the day. He would train with the knights, take his lessons with Arthur, and his meals with Uther. The most awkward about the latter was Uther expected Merlin to treat him like he was Merlin's father.

By the time they were thirteen years and twelve years respectively, the knights had long gotten used to the difference in styles of Merlin and Arthur. They expected the duplicity without ever really knowing why. Merlin's sword style was never as straight forward as Arthur's. He didn't have the power. He only _looked_ like Arthur. He had to work for the muscles that he would never really have. Not like Arthur. So he did his best, teasing and dancing, leaving his magic entirely out of this part. And he succeeded.

On not-Arthur days, he hid away with Gaius more often than not. On the rare occasion he'd help Arthur out with his armour. But usually it was learning magical things with Gaius in order to better protect his prince. But every party of it, of course, was secret. Oh so secret. Like a game, Gaius told him at one point when he was young. A special secret he was to share with no one.

The younger years were spent close with Arthur, learning his mannerisms, court manners, the proper responses to nobility, what was and was not befitting his station. Sneaking treats from the cooks, for example, could be forgiven, while spending an afternoon in a tree, napping, whilst one was supposed to be learning the greater history of Camelot and the surrounding kingdoms, was not.

The younger years spent close to Arthur were also full of taunting, teasing, learning grace at the sharp hand of Arthur. Who had apparently learned to hit out of anger from his father. Thus Merlin learned to hit out of anger.

The first time, Arthur gaped at him like a dead fish. The thought made Merlin laugh so then Arthur turned red in the face and gave him a mighty shove. Merlin fared much better than their prior young scuffles. It was also their first real fight. They only stopped when the punches were more like limp flails. Both panting, Merlin started laughing again.

"Gods, are you _really_ that simple?" Arthur breathed, though he was grinning also.

"This is great!"

"Oh? Because those bruises are going to hurt tomorrow."

"Yours too," Merlin grinned.

Arthur shook his head. "Hardly. You didn't even hurt me."

Merlin snorted.

"What's great?"

"It's like having a brother!"

Arthur shyly agreed.

* * *

><p>Merlin was nine when he made the mistake. It wasn't a conscious decision. It wasn't a test. It was a mistake that he would never make again. Ever.<p>

With Arthur being like the brother he never had, it only made sense that family was family. So when he ran after Uther on a non-Arthur day yelling "Father, Father!" to share something exciting he'd learned, he was surprised when Uther whirled on him. As soon as he was close enough and had opened his mouth to speak, Uther's hand cracked against his cheek, so hard that he stumbled and fell to a knee.

"I am _not_ your father, boy!" Uther hissed, face looking like a thunderstorm. "You are _never_ to call me that looking like that. I am your king. Understand?"

Merlin managed to nod, holding his cheek while his eyes burned.

"Now what was it?"

"N-nothing, Sire," Merlin gasped before fleeing to a dark alcove to cry.

From then he was 'Father' only while he was in the guise of Arthur and 'Sire' in his presence, but always 'Uther,' titleless, in his head. The slight made him feel better on grey days.

Arthur found him later. Called him a girl. Merlin called him a prat and glared hard. Arthur rolled his eyes and asked what happened, but Merlin didn't think that Arthur understood any of Merlin's angry mumblings against his father.

Instead, in a rare moment of true kindness, Arthur lead him down to the kitchens to tease the cooks for a bit of pastry. Claiming that Merlin's pitifulness would get them extra bits.

It was from then on that Merlin thought he loved the prince. These precious few moments when he was a king amongst men, displaying all of the other boy's potential to Merlin like a merchant his wares.

So Merlin vowed to try and protect him from his father's bigotry and small-mindedness. And waited. For the right moment to tell Arthur what kind of king he would be.

As Arthur's thirteenth birthday approached in the next month, Arthur was to participate in his first tourney. This was also about the time when a dark girl named Morgana came to live at the castle. Uther claimed her as his ward, but he treated her more like a daughter. She mostly kept out of their lives and the boys mostly kept out of her life. She did nothing more than sulk for the first year in her rooms anyway and acquire a sweet maid named Gwen.

But Merlin had to prepare for the tourney as well. Because Uther wanted him to be able to step in at a moment's notice.

After practice one day, Arthur yanked him into an alcove, surprising him on his walk back to the chambers that Merlin and Arthur shared. (Though separated by a door.)

"You will not be replacing me in any of the fights. I need to do this. And you won't be using your _talents_ to help me win. Am I clear?"  
>"Thank goodness. I don't want to participate anyway."<p>

"No matter _what_ my father says." Arthur gripped his arm hard.

Merlin nodded without hesitation. Arthur was his king. Not Uther. "It makes it easier for me anyway."

Arthur merely snorted and dropped his hand. "I'm sure. But it doesn't give you the free time to be lazing about either, _Mer_lin. You have your left-handed block to work on, and you right foot skids when you do a right dodge. Work on that. I'll be checking."

Merlin rolled his eyes, but filed the knowledge away for later and corrected on the practice yards.

The switch, however, required extra bits of subtlety and sneaking to make sure that they didn't get caught by Uther in the deception. Because half of the days in the week leading up to the tourney, Merlin was to be Arthur. They succeeded.

As did Arthur in the tourney. Not that Merlin would ever tell him that he thought the other knights went easy on him because he was only a boy as well as the fact that he was the king's only heir.

A week and a half later, when Uther stumbled upon the knowledge that Arthur had been himself the entire time, they were both treated to a swift beating.

"Your father's an arse," Merlin grimaced to Arthur as they cleaned one another up in their chambers.

"I'm pretty sure you're not allowed to say that," Arthur countered, wincing though he tried very hard not to. "Can't you just heal with magic? You've learned that, right?"

"Yes," Merlin scowled, "but what will your father say when he sees us in perfect condition?"

"Fair enough," Arthur breathed sullenly. "Ouch. _Care_ful."

"I'm trying..." Merlin knew his touch was gentle. The prince just needed an outlet for his crabbiness. By dinner they were bandaged and quiet. Careful around Uther's temper.


	3. Chapter 3

Now, Merlin thought, leaning his head against the window pane, now it was different. Now they were men. Arthur, crown prince, was the most sought after man in the kingdom. Something he could say from experience. Now Merlin had even more of a background role. The time spent being himself and being Arthur was probably split evenly. Like in younger years. When Arthur was rather young, people wanted to kill him to throw Camelot into chaos and disorder. The middling years that had mostly stopped. But now that Arthur was of age, Uther aging, and Arthur just on the side of too young to be taken seriously as a ruler, the threats against his life were back with a vengeance.

Merlin no longer had anything to fear from Uther. He was strong enough to win against the man, magic or no. But more importantly, having saved Arthur's life many times over, extricating him from difficult scenarios, and playing his double should he want to have a lie in endeared him to the man and bought him safety under Arthur's name.

He smiled against the cool glass, rain washing the earth clean outside. Arthur was more and more the man he knew he'd become. It was almost daily that Merlin saw it. Shining and golden in his heart. Maybe he would tell him soon.

"Merlin! There you are."

He turned to face Arthur, giving him a smile. "I'm where I said I would be all afternoon..."

"Yes. But I've just come from a council meeting—dreadfully boring, by the way. You should be glad you missed this one."

Merlin rolled his eyes. "More treaties?"

"Spot on. Anyway. I need your help with something. Come on."

He frowned. "What's the matter?"

This time, Arthur rolled his eyes. "Why must you always assume that something is the matter." Arthur strode over and gripped his shoulder. "Come _on_."

He found himself propelled down the hallways before Arthur, nearing Gaius' chambers. "Where are we going?"

"Gaius needed some furniture moved."

"Of course. So naturally, you decided Merlin would be the best person to help with that," he quipped.

"Relax." Leaning around him, Arthur knocked on the door and pushed Merlin through before waiting for the call to enter.

"Surprise!"

Merlin jumped as the happy shouts and smiling faces accosted him. "What? What! Wha—Arthur!"

The prince beamed at him. "Happy birthday, Merlin!"

Gwen, Morgana, Gaius, and several of the knights that Merlin knew on a personal basis crowded forward. Gwen kissed him sweetly on the cheek, Morgana claiming his lips, and the knights thumping him, gently, on the back. Gaius stepped forwards to embrace him. "Happy _birth_day, Merlin."

He stared at them all before grinning madly. "How did you even know?"

"Arthur had asked me some time back, my boy," Gaius said, turning around with a broad smile and a cake on a platter. "This is for you!"

Merlin stared around at them all, warmth flooding up into his face and heart. "All of you..."

Arthur gripped his shoulder and handed him a wrapped object.

"Gods, for me?" Merlin whispered reverently.

"No, I'm just asking you to hold it," Arthur drawled.

Merlin flushed and gave him a small grin before rushing to unwrap the object, not really surprised when it was a sword. But it made him gasp just from its beauty. It was a simplistic blade, subtle designs etched into the metal near the hilt. The hilt was also simple but having much of the same style etching. "This is..._Ar_thur... This is...beautiful."

"You're welcome," he said, smiling broadly. Clearly pleased that Merlin had liked his gift.

Morgana shook her head at her brother and then moved in, handing Merlin another wrapped package.

"You didn't have to..." Merlin protested, feeling himself flush. "Any of you."

"Oh just open it!" she said in the brusk, forward manner that he had grown used to, and even fond of.

Merlin nodded and threw open the packaging to reveal two new shirts. Red, of course. And a deep green that would flatter Merlin's skin well. "These are lovely. Thank you."

"Well, you have to have _something_ to fit you properly," Morgana teased. "Those are from both Gwen and myself."

The knights presented him with new gloves, warm socks, new boots, and Gaius gifted him with a dictionary of useful herbs and plants.

Beaming around at them all, Merlin quickly cut the cake and distributed it amongst his friends, Arthur coming forward with a cask of sweet wine as they all proceeded to get a bit pissed.

The next morning, before the sun had even risen its tired head, Merlin found himself dumped on the floor from the bench on which he had been sleeping and a madly-grinning Arthur standing over him.

"Wha..." was all he could enunciate.

"Tradition, Merlin! On your twenty-first, you're taken out hunting and you have to bring back a boar! I'm coming along as witness, as well as Leon, Kay, Owain. I've invited Lancelot and Gwaine as well. Since I know you're fond of them."

Merlin repeated his first utterance.

Arthur only laughed and hauled him to his feet, before shoving his new sword into his arms. "Come on then. Get dressed! Not any of your new clothes, obviously."

Merlin snorted, only slightly more aware of what was actually going on. "Obviously. I assume we'll be sleeping on the ground."

"Oh, too hard for you, Merlin?"

"Shut up," he grumbled, giving Arthur a good-natured shove as he padded out of Gaius' chambers, Arthur close behind. "I think I'm still a bit pissed..."

"I'm not surprised. You drank quite a bit. Much more impressive than that time we stole the mead and you—"

"I thought we were _never_ talking of that again!"

Arthur laughed, giving him another guided push towards their chambers. "We're not. It was just a passing mention."

"A passing mention is entirely too close to _talking_ about it!"

"Go get yourself dressed, Merlin," Arthur said with entirely too much cheer for the sentiment to be real as he pushed Merlin into his room before backing down the hall to his own.

With a longing glance at his rather comfortable bed, Merlin quickly dressed himself in his warmest tunic before overlaying that with a padded tunic and finally a soft brown leather jerkin. When he met Arthur in the hall again, he laughed.

"You're too much sometimes, Merlin..." Arthur smiled and shook his head, refusing to say more as they tromped down to the stables.

The other knights were waiting for them, handing Merlin and Arthur the reins of their respective horses. A quick check-over by Arthur and they were off. By mid-morning, Merlin understood the full expectations. After Arthur deferred leadership to him the first time, the knights were then looking to him as well. Then he understood that this was more than just a tradition. This was a measure of him as a 'knight.' And though he wasn't really in that role, he needed to be in order to be Arthur. And this was a measure of him and his skills for Arthur. Arthur would, no doubt, report back to Uther on his capability to take point, to hunt, to command, to search, to track, to lead, to kill, and to perform. It was the christening of his blade—yet unused or tested. Though Merlin knew it would perform its duties well. Whether or not the same could be said for him? Time would tell.

Eventually, he called the day and everyone dismounted and set up camp, Arthur's teasing helping him to keep a level head and not descend into panic.

The second day passed much the same.

The third was when they found the tracks and Merlin lead the chase, a bit startled to feel the boil in his blood, crossbow out and cocked. By early-afternoon, his arrow had found its mark and they pursued on foot, Arthur and the rest of the knights hanging back, swords ready. Merlin paused behind a bush, the wounded boar limping along. He quickly rushed in and stabbed the beast where its heart should be to save it further suffering. Arthur congratulated him and the beast was carried back to the horses and carted to take back.

There was much back-thumping, and Merlin couldn't help but beam at his success the whole way back towards the castle.


	4. Chapter 4

It was, of course, too much to hope for, Merlin realised. It was just as they were dismounting that the sizzle rankled up his spine and he noticed the cloaked figure chanting across the courtyard. The spell was already activated, and, with no time for deflecting it, Merlin shoved Arthur down and flew backwards as the spell hit him.

Then it was everything at once. Arthur shouting for the person to be followed and executed. Uther rushing down the stairs from where he had observed their return. The knights dashing away in the clank and rustle of armour. Gwaine and Lancelot kneeling to be sure he was okay.

"Merlin! You idiot!" Arthur bellowed, pushing aside his father's arm with a muttered, "I'm fine. Thanks to Merlin."

"I had a better chance..."

"_Shut up._"

"Arthur," Gwaine interceded.

Arthur shook his head before Merlin could reveal anything, kneeling next to Merlin. "Are you alright?"

"I... think so?" He fingered his jaw and shook his head, wincing. "I don't think... I mean. It feels a bit nasty and grimey, but I think I'm fine."

Arthur had the gall to look faintly amused. "Excellent. Can you stand?"

Both he and Gwaine offered their hands. So Merlin took them, swaying slightly as he mastered standing. "I'm fine. I think. I don't know what that was. I'm glad _you're_ safe."

Arthur shook his head while Gwaine clapped him on the back.

"Well done," Uther said stiffly with a nod at the boar, though his hand subtly squeezed his shoulder and gave him a look that said otherwise.

Merlin swallowed and nodded, flicking a glance at Arthur. They both knew who was really important. "Thank you, Sire."

Then Uther turned away and motioned for servants to take it away and orders to have it prepared for the following night's celebratory feast.

"Well, Merlin, come on. Let's get you cleaned up," Arthur said with a tug at his shoulder.

Nodding, Merlin smiled and followed him inside, stumbling slightly on the stairs.

* * *

><p>Dinner, it seemed, was out to get him. Merlin knocked his goblet over twice, dropped the chicken in his lap, and almost cut off the tip of his pinkie finger. He wasn't even sure <em>how<em> he did the last, but threw his silverware down on the table with a look of disgust. Looking up, he found Arthur staring at him with amusement written all over his face. Now that he was bleeding all over it, Merlin decided dinner was over and went to see Gaius for a bandage. Not arriving, however, until he'd tripped over his cape, stumbled into a suit of armour he barely managed to save with magic, stubbed a toe, and bashed his elbow into a corner.

"Gaius, I think my balance is off..." Merlin complained as soon as he was in the room. Immediately, his hip bumped a table and a book tumbled off a stack onto his feet. "Shit."

"Merlin! I shouldn't think to expect such language from you!"

He rolled his eyes. That was mild. "I've cut my finger during dinner. I wanted to ask for a bandage, please."

"And you didn't think to just..._fix_ it?"

"Not in front of the entire dining hall! People noticed. Gods, I made such a fool of myself," he moaned. "I spilled _everything_! And I've tripped all _over_ the place! I stubbed my toe, banged my elbow, cut my finger, your stupid _book_ fell on my feet..."

Gaius chuckled. "Merlin, that's some back luck you've acquired."

"Yes, ever since—" Merlin broke off into a gasp, clutching the table.

"Merlin?"

"Ever since I was hit with that spell meant for Arthur!"

"You think the spell is causing you back luck?"

"I think... It _could_."

"Merlin? Merlin. Merlin, calm down. Take easy breaths," Gaius instructed in that infuriatingly patient way of his, gripping Merlin's shoulder hard. "This is not a big problem. It's just luck. You'll figure it out like you figure everything else out, right my boy?"

Merlin laughed. He had to. Or else he would probably hyperventilate. "Sure. Of course. Yeah. I... I will. Um. Thanks, Gaius."

His mentor smiled at him, the expression shockingly tender. "You know, Merlin. Since you've come here, I couldn't have been prouder of you. You've never acted in self-interest, and you've taken this position foisted on you from the king with great aplomb and dignity."

"Wow..."

"Most days." Gaius gave him a sly smile.

"Wow... I'm... I don't know what to say, Gaius. Thank you... I never..."

"I know. I've not said it to you before. But you do me proud, my boy. Everything you've done for Arthur. Don't think I don't know. You're a great asset."

"Gaius, you've got to stop or I'll faint from praise!" Merlin pushed Gaius' hand away, face burning.

Gaius only laughed and reached behind him, planting something in Merlin's hand. "Here's what you came for. The wound should be suitably gone in about ten days time. For normal people."

"Thank you, Gaius." He embraced the old man and then made his way, carefully, up to his chambers.

"Merlin! There you are!" Arthur's voice called from the bottom of the stairs Merlin had just finished carefully navigating. After he had stumbled and mashed his shin.

"Arthur."

"Your finger alright?"

"Fine. Thanks. I healed it already." He held up the bandaged digit.

"Excellent. You might want to..."

"Hm?"

Arthur looked pointedly at Merlin's clothing.

"Oh. Bugger."

The prince laughed. "Come along then. Let's get you changed. You really can't do anything right this evening, can you? My father really was grateful. I know he's a bit rubbish at expressing it, of course, but he was very impressed. Oh, don't stare so, Merlin, oi, watch it there. That's a window."

Arthur caught him as he stumbled backwards, cursing his poor luck. "Warn a man when you're about to praise him... I've never been so popular!"

Arthur's expression shifted quickly from amused to fond to _some_thing back to fond. "Merlin, you're _always_ popular."

* * *

><p>"Are you sure you're alright, Merlin?"<p>

"Fine," Merlin grit out as he hip-checked the stone wall.

"This is above and beyond your normal grace."

"Oh thank you, _Sire_."

Arthur only laughed and then steadied him as his foot caught impossibly on a flagstone.

Given his recent heroic acts of saving Arthur, Uther had gifted him with a day of freedom. So Arthur was bringing him to the practise field.

He was quickly told off as he nearly impaled himself in a faux match against Gwaine. Scowling, Merlin cursed as he knocked over the sword rack and a bird shit on his head.

"I'm going inside," he called to Arthur, fully planning on researching the problem until he had an answer.

"Good gods, Merlin... What have you done in here?" Arthur asked much later when Merlin looked up, surprised to see the sun setting. "You didn't forget about tonight's feast, did you?" Arthur stepped over books, stacks of paper, piles of clothes, and various objects Merlin had thrown in his many frustrations.

"Shit."

"Come on then. Get dressed. It is in your honour after all."

Dropping his book and quill, Merlin caught himself on the corner of his desk with ink-stained hands before he fell on his face. For the sixth time this afternoon.

"Are you going to need help with that?" Arthur teased.

"Shut up." He jammed his finger on his wardrobe door, having apparently misjudged the distance. "You're finding this entirely too entertaining. It's hardly _my_ fault anyway. I claim a curse."

Arthur only grinned.

Merlin changed under Arthur's watchful eye and was then guided down to the main hall. Merlin somehow made it to his seat of honour at the head table. Next to Arthur. And stubbornly refused to move for the rest of the meal. More for his own safety, if he were to confess the truth.


	5. Chapter 5

The next eleven days passed much the same, Merlin making the necessary trips to Gaius in order to receive bandages to hide the wounds that he kept acquiring.

"Honestly, Merlin. It's like your a lode stone for trouble! What _is_ the matter with you?"

"It's not _me_, Arthur. I think it's a curse that was meant for you—that one I pushed you out of the way?"

Arthur turned to him in surprise as they made their way up to their chambers after dinner. Merlin clad in more of his dinner than he had ingested. "Wait... _What_?"

Rolling his eyes, Merlin snorted. "_Ar_thur. You didn't honestly expect that this was all just _me_, did you?"

"I thought..." Arthur shook his head. "I thought it was... I dunno. People sometimes grow quickly and lose track of their limbs, yeah? I thought it was like that..."

"No. It is most _definitely_ not like that."

"Oh. I thought..."

"Yes, apparently, _Sire_. Though _this, _I chalk up to enchantment. Unfortunately."

"Well can't you fix it?"

"Thanks for your faith in me," Merlin muttered glumly, "but I have not found a way to do it yet."

"I think that's a first for you, Merlin."

"Shove off, Arthur. I'm really not in the mood."

"I suppose that's true. I'm sorry. I'd just like to point out that you're wearing half of your dinner."

His shoulders tensed and he shoved Arthur away, wobbling dangerously himself. Cursing when Arthur's shoulders shook in hardly-concealed mirth. "You're not terribly sorry at all, you prat!"

"Merlin..." Arthur spread his hands, the corners of his lips curling in that appealing half-grin he used when he was going to explain something to someone who was dreadfully slow. "You have to admit. From my point of view, this is really rather entertaining."

"Oh. So _glad_, I am, _Sire._ You know me. I _live_ to entertain!" Merlin threw his hands up.

"For pity's sake, Merlin. Relax. This is just a bad-luck charm, yes? I'm sure it will—"

"Don't you _dare_ say 'go away.' Because it's not gone away yet, and I'm bloody tired of it. And stop trying to pacify me. You know I hate that."

"Aww, poor Merlin. Dealing with a little enchantment that he can't get rid of!"

"And I hate you mocking me!"

Arthur grabbed Merlin's cheeks and tugged them comically, laughing even as he tried not to.

"Get off, you clod!" Merlin snapped, slapping Arthur's hands away, tripping on another flagstone.

"Relax, Merlin."

"I'm _relaxed_!"

"Clearly," Arthur deadpanned. "Be careful on the stairs!"

Merlin glared at him before purposely stalking up the stairs.

"Watch out!"

Merlin jerked his head towards the warning cry as a basket of laundry tumbled towards him, barrelling right through him as he pitched backwards, Arthur's cry and the thought 'how typical' running through his head before everything went black.

* * *

><p>oOOo<p>

oOOo

* * *

><p>Arthur stared, horrified and dumbstruck down at Merlin—constant Merlin—who was crumpled at his feet where he stood at the bottom of the stairs. "Shit," he said meaningfully. He looked up at the servant at the top of the stairs whose eyes were so wide he could see the whites from where he stood, hands covering her mouth as if to keep the noises in. He looked back down at Merlin. "Shit." He should... He should <em>do<em> something... He should. Shit. Gaius. "GAIUS! IMMEDIATELY!" And then he dropped to his knees (the servant would go), pulling Merlin on to his lap, ripping off his jacket to staunch the blood that oozed from his head.

"Oh _gods_, _Ar_thur!" Gaius's voice sounded broken when it broke through his Merlin-focused stupor. "_Arthur_!" Gaius was then pushing him back before two others eased Merlin onto a piece of fabric. To carry him. Like a knight from battle. Arthur forced himself to breath. "Keep the pressure on the wound, Arthur," Gaius ordered, voice sharp and firm.

So Arthur stumbled next to Merlin, carried in the sling of the fabric—that's what it was for—and pressed his, now irreparably ruined, jacket to Merlin's head.

He'd seen blood before. He was no stranger to it. Oddly, the sight of so much of it flowing from Merlin made his stomach turn. Blood. Merlin's blood. Then they were in Gaius' quarters and there was shouting and manoeuvring and adjusting, shifting, moving, cursing.

"Everyone _out_! Sir Owain, please stand just outside the door," Gaius ordered, pressing his hands over Arthur's on the jacket. "Arthur, move." He couldn't. Merlin would just bleed. "Arthur..._Ar_thur." Gaius' hands pulled at his finally, but he shook the man off. What was wrong with him? "Arthur, I can _help_ him. You need to move a minute. And... I trust," he continued, voice soft as he looked into his face gently, "that you will keep this secret. Yes?"

"What?" Arthur said stupidly, watching as Gaius' eyes flashed gold briefly with a few heavily muttered words. "Oh. _Oh_." And stepped back. "What did you _do_?"

"I'm trying to _save_ him," Gaius muttered. He carded his hands through Merlin's hair, searching for the cut, muttering the words again as he caught side of the garish split skin, almost indiscernible beneath the blood.

"Gods, is he going to be okay?" Arthur demanded breathlessly, regretting asking the question because he was suddenly quite afraid of the answer. What was wrong with him?

"I.. I don't know," Gaius answered, distracted as he grabbed Arthur's jacket and pressed it back against the wound. "Is this...? Never mind." He shook his head and pressed Arthur's hand over the wound before moving over to his workbench, clinking and general noise-making filling the silence in the room.

Arthur stared down at Merlin who was quickly looking like death warmed over, such strong feelings confusing him. He'd never particularly cared for Merlin before. He'd always just _been_ there. A part of his life since he was very young. Hell, Merlin _was_ him. Unbidden and unwanted, a line from one of the songs the last bard had sung snuck into his mind: _you only know what you have when you lose it_.

Shit.

Gaius was back, moving Arthur's hands and pressing a small satchel to Merlin's head and whispering more words, somehow managing to make Arthur help as he sewed the wound closed.

"Arthur. There's nothing more that we can do at this point. Get some rest."

Sinking onto a stool next to Merlin's bed, he couldn't stop the shakes that began in the tips of his fingers before quickly sweeping through his entire body. Oh gods. What was wrong with him.

He was dimly aware of Gaius coming to check on Merlin methodically. He was dimly aware of his father storming in to assess the situation, take in his son, and then storm out again. He was dimly aware of time passing—some time in between the sun setting and rising again. He was dimly aware of his body cramping as he stayed, silent, besides Merlin's prone form.

He was hyper-aware of Merlin's chest. Rising. Falling. Rising. Falling. Rising. Falling. Sometimes inconsistent. He was most aware of it then. But even when it was slow and steady, he was still highly aware of it. After all, it told him that Merlin still lived.

"Arthur. Arthur? _Ar_thur!"

He jerked wildly, looking up at Gaius whose expression promptly changed from worried to sort of sad and fond and pitying all in one.

"Arthur. You should get some rest."

"I'm making sure he's breathing," he replied dazedly.

If anything, Gaius' expression turned more to pity and he patted his shoulder. "Get some rest. I'll keep watch over him."

He didn't move. He didn't sleep.

.

.

_._

.

_END PART ONE_


	6. Chapter 6

The feeling of dread and constant stress took their turn as Arthur finally passed out two days later. When he woke again, he was in his own bed, the sun streaming through the window. He blinked a moment, remembering where he was. And just as suddenly, remembering where he _wasn't_. He sat up quickly, groaning at the light and the dizziness.

"You'll be of no help to him if you destroy yourself," his father's harsh voice said.

Looking over, he was there. Sitting sprawled in a chair, looking blankly at Arthur. "Father."

"If you insist on going back to Gaius' chambers, it will not be before you eat something, bathe, and put on fresh clothes."

"Yes. Yes," he replied stiffly, his heart pounding in his chest as his father stood and walked to the door.

"He has been a great service to us," he said lowly. "I hope he recovers."

Arthur nodded, scrambling out of his bed, calling for a bath out the door and scarfing his breakfast down while waiting for the tub to be made ready. Once ready, he scarcely took the time to dry himself before donning his clothes and rushing down to Merlin's side once again.

"Any change? Has he woken?" he demanded, breathless, upon bursting into Gaius' workroom. "Oh Gaius, you haven't been up all night, have you?"

"Sire..."

"Get some rest. I'll watch over him."

Gaius rose from his workbench and gave him a patient smile. "I'm sure he will be fine."

"Tell me plainly, Gaius; don't sugar-coat things," he said, tossing his head in annoyance. "I can handle it. Now go get some rest."

"Of course, Sire. Make sure you tend to his fever. It has been decreasing with the rising of the sun, but I want to be sure it stays that way. Also, I have a few compresses set aside, ready, so change it in the turn of an hour."

"Of course." Arthur's eyes were already on the unconscious form of his double. His confidant. His friend. His brother. Though, Arthur realised, it had been some time now that he'd thought of him that way. Arthur propped open one of Gaius' books as he continued his vigil, clutching Merlin's hand. The pages of anatomy were dull enough, so he didn't miss the quick pressure in his hand. "Gaius! Gaius, his hand twitched," he yelled as he leapt to his feet. "Gaius!"

Gaius stumbled into the room half a minute later, feeling for Merlin's pulse, checking his eyes, and generally doing a lot of fussing that Arthur didn't quite understand. Then he sighed, shoulders sagging. "I'm afraid that it was just nerves. He's not waking."

Arthur felt the frown tug his lips down sharply before he could check it. "Oh."

"His fever is down, however. So that is good news."

"Shit," Arthur muttered darkly before settling on his stool again. "Sorry to have woken you, Gaius."

"It's alright," the old man placated.

"No, it's obviously _not _alright. Why won't he just wake up!"

"The human body is incredibly complicated, Sire. I'm afraid I don't know. That and head wounds are notoriously finicky things. I..." He broke off and shrugged. "We won't know what to expect when Merlin wakes."

"What does that mean?" Arthur narrowed his eyes at the man, feeling his heart thud in his chest.

"It just means, Sire, that Merlin... Well, he may not remember things when he wakes."

Arthur nodded and dropped his gaze to Merlin's chest. Rise and fall. Rise and fall. "I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

><p>The next seven days passed much the same before his father finally grew tired of Arthur's inaction and ordered him back to his duties. So he trained—wearing both himself and the knights to the ground so that he might finally sleep unaided and dreamless.<p>

His night of sleep lasted about as long as the time it took him to toss and turn from his side to his stomach to his other side to his back and then back to his side again before falling asleep only to be woken by an unearthly scream. Thrashing out of his bed, Arthur managed to keep his feet and sprint down to Gaius' chambers where his gut lead him. The door was thrown open and heat blasted out of Gaius' rooms. Arthur coughed and threw himself in anyway, seeing flames licking from the small backroom where Merlin had been lying.

"Gaius!"

"Who—Arthur?"

"Merlin!"

"I _know_! I can't get close!" Gaius yelled, stumbling out of a cloud of black smoke, coughing and hacking.

Arthur caught his arm and steadied the man. "Stay here."

"Arthur! Wait! No!"

He bent into the smoke, just as another wail lit through the rooms. "Merlin! Can you hear me? Merlin, I'm _coming_!" Grabbing a bowl of water, he doused a convenient cloth and pressed it over his mouth and nose. "Merlin!" He ripped off his night shirt and absently lamented another article of clothing's destruction due to Merlin, and beat back the flames as he tripped up the stairs. "_Merlin_! Ach—it's too hot! Merlin, can you—"

And then the flames winked out, and Arthur stumbled, blinking in the sudden darkness. "Merlin?" Feeling rather foolish when there was no reply, and then even more foolish for asking the question, he shouted, "Gaius? Could you bring a...torch? Please?"

The man staggered in a minute later, the flickering brand casting shadows around the room. Which bore no evidence of flame damage. "Dear gods... I was..." He leaned heavily against the pole in the middle of the room.

Arthur took the torch and quickly made his way to Merlin's side. "Gaius!" But the other man was already at his side, feeling for a pulse and checking Merlin's eyes.

He sighed. "Whatever it was, Sire—for it was surely him. That was a magical fire. He's asleep again."

Arthur cursed. "Is that a good sign at least? Does that mean he'll wake?"

"I have no way of knowing." He shook his head. "I'm just glad..."

"Me too, Gaius. Me too," he muttered and then sighed. "Go ahead back to sleep. I'll stay with him."

"Arthur! That could be dangerous."

He snorted. "Hardly. He stopped as soon as I got into the room. He cares for me," he continued, hopefully sounding more confident than he felt. It could have just been a coincidence. "I'll be fine."

"Sire, I don't—"

"I do," he said firmly. "Get some rest, Gaius." Arthur waited for him to leave before dragging a stool over and taking Merlin's hand in his, watching the hours pass in the moonlight that crawled over Merlin's face.

Merlin still hadn't woken by morning, so Arthur reluctantly followed Gaius into the main room for some breakfast, brought by Gwen. Smiling sweetly and apologetically for the whole situation with Merlin.

"It was hardly your fault, Guinevere. You needn't apologise," Arthur replied.

"Still, Sire, I know how fond you are of him...and...well I hardly think Morgana would pine over me so, not to say that you're pining, my lord. In fact, I think it's rather sweet how dedicated you are to him."

Dragging a hand over his face, Arthur sighed. He really was not ready for this. "Thank you for the food, Guinevere. I'll be sure to let you know when he wakes."

She smiled again and bobbed a curtsy. "Thank you. We are fond of him as well, you know."

"Yes. Everyone is fond of Merlin," he said quietly, just a little unable to keep his lips in the steady line of propriety.

"Take care of yourself as well, my lord. You need to keep your strength up."

"Of course, of course. I'm fine."

"Oh? Because the bags under your eyes tell me otherwise," she said quietly, not meeting his eyes. But Arthur could hear the reprimand in her words.

"And I said I'll be fine. I'm just a bit tired. Staying up most of the night can do that to a person. I've seen it on your face, so don't turn into a hypocrite."

"I'm not." This time she did meet his eyes. "I'm merely trying to care for you while you care for him."

Arthur nodded. "Well thank you. I...appreciate that."

Gwen left then and Arthur ate quickly, leaving enough for Gaius. He looked around the workroom and did a bit of straightening. Just for something to do. And then returned to Merlin's side. "You should wake up, you know..." he murmured. "We're all missing you terribly. Not to mention we're worried. _I'm_ worried. I don't know if I've ever said it before. I do need you. You make it all more bearable, you know?" He squeezed Merlin's hand, jumping as the man rolled over on the bed, curling around their joined hands. "M-merlin?" His hope faded, however, when Merlin merely shifted again and settled.

He jerked at the jab to his face, slipping off the stool and falling rather gracelessly to the floor.

"Arthur!" Merlin's voice called, overjoyed and giggly.

"Merlin? Merlin!" Scrambling to reseat himself, he gripped Merlin's shoulders, looking into his bright blue eyes. "Merlin..."

"Arthur!" Merlin's hand came up again and poked him in the nose.

"Mer—stop that!"

Brow beginning to furrow, Merlin's lips tilted into a pout, fingers suddenly tangling into his hair clumsily. "Gold pretty shiny."

"What?" Arthur broke off, calling for Gaius over his shoulder before settling himself on the edge of the bed next to Merlin. Who was giggling.

Gaius shuffled in. "You know, Arthur, have you ever heard of the story of the little boy who cries wol—Merlin! You're awake!"

Arthur wished he could have uttered a smug "see," but was rather more concerned with the results of Gaius' latest assessment.

"How are you feeling, Merlin?"

Merlin giggled again. "Hair!" And he reached out and snagged Gaius' as soon as he was within range.

Gaius frowned and gripped Merlin's chin, pulling up his eyelids to better peer into her eyes. "Merlin? How are you _feeling_?"

"Ow!" He batted at Gaius' hand, shuddering slightly.

"Gaius..." Arthur whispered, horror seeping in like the chill of a wet day, covering the joy that he had felt at Merlin's being conscious.

"I fear—" Gaius coughed and cleared his throat to cover the break in his voice. "I fear that Merlin might have suffered some damage of the mind. From his fall. I... Sire, there's nothing I can do to fix that..."

"Will he get better?" Arthur heard himself ask, a little desperate.

"I..." Gaius shook his head. "I don't think so."


	7. Chapter 7

Arthur hadn't been down to see Merlin in about ten days time. It hurt too much to watch his friend spill food down his front and laugh at things that weren't funny—or worse, things that were inappropriate. The grin was a steady fixture, making him look as mad as he finally was.

That wasn't how Merlin was supposed to be. His eyes were supposed to shine with that careful cleverness, quiet and understated until you realised just how clever and funny he really was. He was supposed to laugh and needle until it took the edge off of Arthur's sour mood. He was supposed to stay silent and listen while he ranted about things his father said or how today was supposed to be_his_ day and he had really wanted to train outside with the knights in the lovely weather, damnit!

Not... Not be this _creature_ that wore Merlin's skin, flaunted Merlin's laughter, and dealt Merlin's smiles freely. Arthur kicked a chair sending it skittering until it fell flat with a loud clatter that made him wince despite knowing it was coming. He cursed long and low before answering the knock at the door. "Yes?"

"Sire, your father wanted to see you."

"Tell him—"

"He also told me to accept no excuses," the servant bowed and looked appropriately apologetic.

"I'll be there shortly," Arthur growled then slammed the door shut on the servant's heels. Merlin would yell at him for that. Except that he now felt foolish opening the door again to slink out and down to Gaius' room to check on Merlin, feeling rather guilty for neglecting him. The anticipation of seeing his friend again conflicted with the sharpness of the pity he felt for Merlin's situation.

"Arthur!" Gaius exclaimed when he opened the door. Merlin was grinning madly, hanging on Gaius' arm, the free one holding something out of Merlin's reach.

"Gaius..." He returned, voice full of amusement.

"Some help, Sire?"

Arthur chuckle despite himself and came forward, gripping Merlin under the arms to drag him away. He let out a wail and clawed at Gaius' clothes to try and get the object Gaius held. "What does he want so badly?"

The physician merely held out a pestle wordlessly.

"Great."

"He is in an excellent mood today, Arthur. Like..." Gaius trailed off and then shook his head. "He's been asking after you."

Arthur dropped his gaze guiltily, starting when Merlin's arms snaked around him and he was suddenly firmly in the grasp of a skinny man with the mentality of a five-year old. "M-merlin! Get off me, you idiot!"

Merlin's wide blues met his and, to Arthur's horror, his eyes began to fill with tears.

"Shit! No, Mer—Merlin, don't cry! I didn't mean it!" Arthur protested quickly, pressing a hand into his hair. "Oh shit." He looked over at Gaius who appeared to be trying—not very hard—to keep his laughter silent. Arthur rolled his eyes and pet Merlin's head until the shuddery sobs thankfully subsided. "It's alright, Merlin. You're fine. You're fine."

Merlin smiled up at him, squeezing Arthur tighter. "Mine! Arthur pretty!"

He flushed and firmly pushed Merlin off him. "Merlin. I need you to stand here. And don't move."

Merlin gazed at him adoringly and drooled slightly.

Arthur looked away. "I'll be back later, Gaius."

"Was there something you came for, Sire?"

Arthur shook his head and then moved towards the door. "No. Thank you." He closed the door softly and made his way to his father. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes. Arthur. I was thinking..." his father began distractedly, "Merlin."

"What about him?"

"I was thinking it might be best if he is sent home." Uther didn't look at him, instead focusing on his paperwork and he maps in front of him.

"What?"

"You heard me. It might be best if we sent the boy home."

"Father, here _is_ home."

"Send him back to his home village then."

"To whom, exactly?" Arthur asked mildly, feeling the irritation begin to well up.

"Arthur, stop being difficult. He has no further purpose here if he cannot perform the assignment I had given him."

"Father!" Arthur rocked back on his heels. "This is _Merlin_."

"Exactly. And I know the service he has provided the crown, thus I will not kill him—"

"_Kill—_"

"Arthur, do _not_ interrupt me."

"We're not sending him out like a horse to pasture," Arthur retorted. "He's a human being."

"Yes. One who is, frankly, now useless. I've seen the boy. He is no more than a child in an adult's body. Who wields incredibly powerful magic." Uther snorted. "Besides. He won't even know."

The anger flares bright hot then and he growls, low and dangerous, "I would know. We're not sending him away. We owe him that much." Uther opened his mouth, a thunderous expression on his face, but Arthur had already turned on his heel and stalked back to his room, changing his mind and returning to Gaius. "He wanted to send him away."

"I beg your pardon, Sire?" Gaius looked up, confused.

"He wanted to send Merlin away," Arthur repeated bitterly. "Because he's _useless_."

Gaius' eyebrows climbed his forehead before furrowing downwards as his mouth compressed to a thin line.

"I'm not letting him. Of course," Arthur said off-handedly, leaning up against the workbench. "I won't let him."

Countenance evening, Gaius nodded.

"I'll come visit tomorrow." Only after ruffling Merlin's hair did he return to his room.

* * *

><p>The next morning, however, he was awakened by smacking kisses. Which unfortunately lead to wild flailing (on his part), Merlin wobbling off the bed to the floor, Merlin crying, Arthur panicking, Arthur calming Merlin, Gaius bursting into his bedchamber with apologies falling from his lips—Merlin had very much wanted to see you, Sire, I'm so sorry, he got away from me—<p>

"Relax, Gaius. Take a seat and catch your breath. It's fine. Just a little...over-zealous affection is all." He glanced over his shoulder and blanched, Merlin rubbing himself on Arthur's bed. "Merlin! Stop that this instant!"

Merlin just grinned in what might normally have been considered coy, but really just looked deranged and continued shoving his hips at the sheets.

"_Gods_, Merlin!" Arthur hauled him off his bed and averted his eyes from the glaringly obvious bulge in his trousers. "Shit," he muttered feelingly. "Gaius...!"

"Yes, yes, Sire. So sorry..." Gaius reached for Merlin, gripping his arms to his side. "I'll get him back. It won't happen again..."

But it did happen again. It happened every day for another two weeks.

"Isn't there something you can do about this, Gaius?" he blurted desperately.

"I..." the older man's shoulders slumped. There's nothing I can do. I told you, Sire."

"Well what the _fuck_ are we going to do with him!" he snapped, pacing, trying very hard to ignore Merlin rolling on Arthur's bed like a dog in the grass.

"Sire, I'm afraid—" he started tiredly.

"As are we all! He's driving _me_ mad, I've not seen Gwen with anything other than that pinched expression, Morgana is more moody than ever, if that's possible, and my father—good gods, my father treats him like a leper and gets more stone-faced about him staying on as time passes! And I'm still not convinced that my father won't have him _shipped_ off somewhere or worse, _killed_."

"If you might just—"

"Enough with the extraneous words, Gaius; just be straight with me."

"I can't do anything for him. He won't recover. I'm afraid the damage seems to be permanent. He won't ever be anything other than this."

Arthur nodded once, pressing a hand over his eyes. "I see."

"Yes, Sire."

"There's _nothing_? Gaius? Is there _any_thing you can do? And I mean _any_thing. Whatever it takes."

Gaius paled.

"Merlin had told me. That you knew..." He made a gesture, knowing the other man would understand. "Back in the day..."

"Sometimes it is best to leave things the way they are when one does not understand them."

"He treats me like a glorified stuffed bear! A comfort item! A rutting post! And I can't take it anymore!" Arthur shrieked. "Don't talk riddles to _me_!"

"Your father didn't understand with what he was dealing, Sire. The consequences have made him a most unhappy man."

Arthur paled. "How dare you."

"You said speak straight, Arthur," he returned, looking far more tired than Arthur had ever seen him, like life was ebbing away from his sharpness, making him dull and soft. "There is hardly anything more I can do for him, magic or no."

"Well I can't accept that."

"I'm afraid you're going to have to!" Gaius snapped. "I told him, "it's just luck!" for fuck's sake! Damnit! I don't want him like this any more than you! Whatever he means to you, Arthur, he is just as important to me!"

There was nothing to say to that. So he left. Leaving Merlin to Gaius, knowing the man would take him back down to his room where he might keep a better eye on him. Tie him to his bed, for all Arthur knew, to keep him in place. Much later, in the inky darkness of no moon, Arthur stared up into the canopy of his bed for lack of sleep, and as the conversation rose again to the forefront of his mind, he wondered. What _did _Merlin mean to him?


	8. Chapter 8

Arthur returned to Gaius' rooms, however, Gwen falling in step beside him, her dark face pinched as it so often was these days.

"How is Morgana?" he asked, not really caring, just seeking to fill the silence between them.

"Not sleeping."

"Oh. That's rather rotten."

"Mm. You don't look like you're faring much better," she murmured.

He shook his head. "Stress."

"This has been stressful on all of us, Sire."

"Not all of you have my father as both a king _and_ parent," Arthur retorted, feeling mean. But Gwen huffed a laugh instead, and Arthur's day brightened just a little.

"He's not going to get better, is he?" Gwen asked after half a staircase of muffled steps.

Arthur's eyes fell on the spot where Merlin had tumbled at the bottom of the stairs. "No. Shit. Oh, sorry, Guinevere. Pardon my language."

"It is a bit shit, isn't it?" she echoed wryly.

He stared at her. "Guinevere! I'm surprised at you!"

She only offered him a small smile that did not reach her eyes. "Yes, well. Aren't we both."

"I don't know what to do for him" he offered.

"Be kind. He takes everything so literally. He needs kind words. Touch."

He felt himself flushing slightly. "He is rather simple these days, isn't he..."

"Arthur..."

"It's true, and you know it." He shrugged. "It's just how it is. I don't mean it harshly. It's _Merlin_ for pity's sake."

She nodded and opened Gaius' door to let them both in.

"Arthur," Gaius sighed, looking for all the world, dead but still moving. The guilt Gaius had subtly admitted wrought all over his face and in his stance and he stood dripping and wrestling with a naked Merlin.

Gwen squeaked and looked away. Arthur quickly averted his eyes as well. "What happened?"

"Arthur, could you... could you _help_, please? I can't... I can't hold him."

He obliged, crushing Merlin against his chest. "What happened?" He repeated.

"Merlin. What else?"

Upon mention by name, the man burbled into Arthur's chest, scrunching his hands into Arthur's hair, and essentially wrapping himself around him like an eel. Arthur sighed. "Yes, but specifically."

"He knocked into the leech tank, spilling the foul water all over himself and the floor. So he needed a bath. Especially when he kept insisting on hugging me."

"I see," Arthur said flatly. "And you're certain there's nothing you can do."

"Sire," Gaius began heavily, his voice full of barely constrained frustration, "I can do absolutely _nothing _in this situation. If I could have, I _would_. Believe you me. I have become nothing more than a glorified _nanny_ to Merlin ever since he's recovered and regained his energy. In fact, the only person who probably _could_ remedy the situation would be Merlin himself. He's the only one that I know who has both the skill and the power for such a task."

Arthur sighed. "And once again, Merlin, you prove yourself utterly useless..."

"Sire..."

He waved it away, petting Merlin's head with his other hand. "You know I don't mean it, Gaius."

"Perhaps someone ought to get Merlin some clothes," Gwen suggested, her back still turned.

Arthur jumped and Gaius shuffled off to find something clean to cover Merlin's nudity. "Merlin, Merlin. What _are_ we going to do with you..." He breathed tiredly.

"Hug!" Merlin chirped, squeezing tighter.

Arthur yelped as a hand caught his bum, and he cuffed Merlin's head reflexively. "Why. Is it. That the only thing you can manage to think about is _sex_!"

Gazing up at him with watery blues, Merlin slid to the ground, lip quivering.

"Oh gods. Don't—don't cry. Again. You'd think I'd be used to it by now..."

"What did we say about kind words?" Gwen said archly.

"Thank you. For that." He pushed Merlin off him as Gaius returned and helped wrap him up in one of Gaius' clean robes. When he stepped back, he prompted burst out laughing.

Gwen whirled around and joined in immediately, spurred on by Gaius' shaking shoulders.

Merlin, looking around uncertainly at first, then joined in enthusiastically, the sound bright and childish. It would have been perfect, had it not sounded forced, so Arthur sobered quickly. "I'll fetch something from his room."

"No, Sire. Don't worry about it. I'll get it," Gwen offered quickly and then left before he could stop her.

Arthur sighed and stared down at Merlin. "What _are_ we going to do with you, Merlin."

Merlin only grinned and waved his arms, Gaius' great sleeves flapping manically.

"Did you want help with the leech tank, Gaius?" Arthur asked absently. "I can get someone to come in, when I can't, to help you with Merlin."

"Sire, I hardly think that's necessa—"

"You just admitted to being unable to keep up with him, Gaius. And as much as I appreciate sloppy kisses in the morning, not so much when they're from Merlin. This is nothing against you, Gaius. I've appreciated your work more than I've ever said. Sorry for that, I suppose. It's been...remiss of me. I just think... Well, you've your own work to attend, and I mine. So extra help for keeping him..._contained_, I think, might be in order."

Gaius gave him a tired smile. "Thank you, Arthur."

"Of course," he replied, grabbing the back of Merlin's neck as he tried to climb up onto the table, waving a spoon around wildly.

Later that night, as he stared up at his canopy, once again in the thralls of sleeplessness, something Gaius had said got him thinking. Somewhere out in the world, there had to be someone else with both the power and the skill for 'such a task.' He worried his lip as his hands stretched up to clasp behind his head to let the thought stretch out. Merlin had always been a special case. His father's grateful leniency coming to a close with Merlin's uselessness. If Merlin were able to resume his duties, then his father would, of course, keep him around. Magic, of course, was conveniently a thing that was not spoken of for fear of being discovered, turned in, arrested, and ultimately executed. Thus, finding a sorcerer was going to be next to impossible. This had nothing to do with the fact that Arthur was the _crown prince of Camelot_. Thus the task would be so far beyond impossible, that impossible had begun to look easy. He set it aside for later pondering and planning and rolled over to try and sleep.

* * *

><p>It was only after a week of Guinevere telling him she'd found Merlin yelling 'Bath! Bath! Washing bubbles!" gleefully whilst splashing in the fountain in the courtyard, Leon informing him with Saint-like patience (he'd knight the man twice if he could) that Merlin was currently inciting mock battles amongst the armour in the armoury (thank the gods it was Leon and not one of the newer knights), Gaius panting that Merlin was licking peoples' hands as he could find them, Morgana shrieking that Merlin dressing up in her jewellery, veils, and scarves and then attempting to hide beneath her skirts was <em>not <em>okay no matter how simple he was, Lancelot breathlessly hauling a sobbing Merlin to him after he'd nearly leapt off the ramparts because he wanted to 'Fly! Birds! Merlin up!", the cook bellowing at him to keep better track of crazy Lord Merlin who encouraged their fires to whirl and whisper, Gwaine shrugging apologetically with a wide grin that he found Merlin pretending to be a dog—taking a dump, and his father speaking volumes of his disapproval through scathing glances, unmuted sighs, frown lines, and raised eyebrows that Arthur decided to seriously seek out someone who might be able to help Merlin.

Merlin who was currently whimpering because his wrist was tethered firmly to Arthur's desk and he couldn't reach his toes to his mouth, if Merlin's strangely-lifted leg and reaching mouth were any indication.

Arthur looked away, pain flaring up in his heart. Merlin was better than this. His eyes were dull. His tousled hair no longer endearing, instead merely messy. With what looked like twigs snagged in it. All signs of his sharp intelligence gone.

"Merlin! Stop that," Arthur snapped tiredly.

Merlin gave him his now-familiar-hurt-frozen-deer look and pouted. Arthur, effectively guilted.

"You're not the least bit cute, you know that?"

Merlin just tilted his head, moving to shift before glancing at the rope holding his wrist in confusion. "Merlin like horse? Wrong." He frowned and tugged it.

"Stop it, Merlin." Arthur didn't bother looking up from his work.

"Aaaaaaaarthuuuur..." Merlin tugged some more, grunting. He wrapped his other hand around the rope, yelping when he probably pinched his skin.

"Merlin"

He scooted away from the desk and stood, listing to one side before giving a sharp tug of his tied arm. "Ow! Ow! Merlin ow ow ow!"

"Merlin, stop it."

"Ow! _Ow_!" His cries grew louder as he pulled again and again.

"Merlin! Stop it! You're going to injure yourself!" He thumped a fist on his desk.

Merlin jumped. "Loud! Noise! Loud noises!" Merlin chanted, stomping his feet on the ground. "Dancing! Want Arthur!"

He grit his teeth. "I'm. Right. Here, Merlin."

"Aaaaaaarthuuuuuuurrr," Merlin giggled, fisting his hand in his tunic, the other waving around in the air as if with a mind of its own.

Arthur sighed. "Merlin, can't you please just be quiet for a _short_ while? Let Arthur work?"

"Merlin play! Booooooring..." He wriggled, pulling at his tied wrist.

Massaging his temple, Arthur suppressed his groan. "How about this, Merlin," he said suddenly, smiling brightly. "How about we play a game!"

"Game!" he shrieked happily. "Game game gamegamegame—"

"Yes. The goal of the game is to see who can _not_ talk for the longest period of time. Understand?"  
>Merlin nodded frantically, a wide grin spreading his lips. "Merlin gonna win!"<p>

"Aand, starting..._now_!" Arthur forced the wide grin, feeling slightly bad about tricking his friend. He felt less badly when the game lasted only about twenty minutes. He sighed and rose. "Merlin. How about we go for a run. You remember how to run, right?" He had to get this extra energy out of him somehow.

"Run run run! Running!" Merlin was on his feet and flailing about with apparent excitement.

Steadying him, Arthur made sure his boots were on and then lead Merlin down to the practice fields, encouraging him to run the perimeter with him, again, and again, and again, until Arthur was exhausted and Merlin threw himself on the ground with a stubborn cry of "No more! Merlin not running!" So Arthur relented and deposited him into the hands of Gaius and Jeremy, the help that Arthur had appointed to him in dealing with Merlin, and instructed them to bathe him whilst Arthur went back to his room to finish his work.

Work of the usual nature, and work that he daren't entrust to another soul. He could have easily asked Gaius for recommendations of other powerful sorcerers. But he didn't want to take the risk of implicating another should this all fail and fall flat, exposed at his feet. Worrying his lip, Arthur pulled out the records he had secreted from the library while Geoffrey had been distracted thanks to some pulled favours and recommendation promises to servants. Unfortunately it had taken him longer than planned to find the appropriate volume, so he had been required to sneak past Geoffrey on hands and knees. His face flushed at the memory, a little bit loving the thrill it had provided, a little bit hating the embarrassment it would cause if he were discovered.

The lists of names dragged on over the pages, careful and almost apologetic in Geoffrey's script. Names of people, comma, age, comma, sorcerer, comma exiled-burned-beheaded-whatever punishment his father had dictated. He swallowed. There were few who had been exiled. Presumably, those had been the early days. So he would start close. Hunting trips to get his mind off of Merlin and his duties. And his father's blatant disapproval.

So Arthur stayed up late, the candles burning low, making lists. And lists. Exiles to the north. Exiles to the south. Exiles to the east. Exiles to the west. Numbered closed to furthest. These things, of course, required planning.


	9. Chapter 9

He supposed they had been lucky so far. Arthur shook his head. And it had been bound to expire at some point. As he surveyed the wreckage of what had been his bedchambers compared with what was now splintered furniture, loose feathers, scraps of cloth, rumbled clothes and bed linens, he knew the time to pretend had run out.

"Sire, I'm _so_ sorry," Gaius gasped, taking in the damage. "I—"

"Tomorrow and the next few days after that, Gaius," Arthur began in a cool voice, "Merlin is yours and Jeremy's responsibility. I'm going hunting." He didn't care that it made him seem like a cold arse. It was, really, for the better if Gaius didn't catch on to his planning. And if they thought that he was throwing a fit over his demolished room, so be it. "Jeremy, tell whatever servant is outside to send for a carpenter. In the meanwhile, find replacements for—" He waved a hand at everything. "There should be furniture in guest room sin the North Wing that's not going to be used for quite some time. Bring it here."

Jeremy nodded and rushed to relay his orders while Gaius wrung his hands and looked more miserable than Arthur had seen him in years.

Arthur sighed, wishing to relent, instead settling for, "Gaius, should you wish for some time off, take it. I don't blame you for Merlin's...accident."

"Sire, it was my trying to feed him that potion tha—"

He shook his head. "Think nothing of it. I shall see if Morgana can spare Guinevere for a time. And if not, you have my permission to recruit Lancelot, Gwaine, or Leon. I trust their discretion."

Gaius' shoulders sloped more, but he nodded, and with Jeremy's help, they coaxed a wailing Merlin to his feet and from the room.

Arthur immediately packed a bag of supplies, ordered a horse ready for him at first light, consulted his list of names and the map once more before secreting it into his satchel as well. He then slipped into the ruins of his mattress for what sleep he could catch to prepare him for he following days of sorcerer hunting. The hunting bit wasn't a complete lie then, after all.

He set out when the sun was still fat on the horizon, plain-clothed and sober as he went over the million ways to approach this scenario. It would be better, he realised, to not reveal who he was at first. Maybe not ever. His eyes landed on some berries, and he pursed his lips and dismounted to gather them for later. They might do well to disguise his hair. The trip started well, and was, Arthur was surprised to realise, relaxing. Camping under the open stars was pleasant despite the early summer chill. Arthur stretched out next to the fire and drifted off.

The next night was just as warm, but the third, rain drove him indoors to the closest inn he could find. He was a little bit thankful when it rained the final leg of his journey, so he could trudge up to the house after berry-dying his hair to be a night's shelter.

"Hello?"

Arthur gave the woman his most charming smile, hunching his shoulders as Merlin always had when he was shy about asking for something. "Hullo. I was wondering if I might beg a spot of you floor for the night?"

The woman's flat expression never changed as she gave him a once-over. "I suppose."

"Thanks so much. Can I tether my horse out here?"

"Sure."

"Thank you..."

"Susanne Gladdance. Welcome."

Arthur turned away and tended to his horse, tucking his saddle and gear into the dry barn. "Thank you so much for your hospitality."

"Mm-hm." She stepped back to allow him in. "Are you hungry?"

"Oh, I brought—"

"I have enough if you'd care to share our meal."

Arthur grinned, glad to hear she was not the only one at home. "Thank you." The name was right, so far.

"Gerard! We have a guest!" She bellowed as she led Arthur to a back room where a man and a boy a few years younger than Arthur sat at the table. "This is... I'm sorry. What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't. I'm Ar—len. Arlen. A pleasure.""

"Where you from, Arlen?" The man asked, fixing dark eyes on him. "You sound like city."

"Oh. Um. Yes."

"Camelot?"

Arthur blinked. "How did you know?"

The man smiled, but it wasn't happy. "Spent some time there in my younger days."

"I see. Well, I'm sure it's mostly the same," he offered casually, sitting in the free chair.

"No. I'm sure it's quite different..." he countered, a far-off expression covering his face.

"Hm," Arthur agreed, furtively watching for signs of magic. "Time does much to change a place, I suppose."

"And people. There were things that happened that made it—"

"Gerard!" The wife interrupted, dropping a cooked fowl on the table louder than necessary.

The man smiled sheepishly and carved the bird.

Arthur enjoyed dinner, but waited until he could corner the man outside the next morning to ask his question. Though he was relieved when it came naturally to the conversation.

"Good morning, Arlen!"

"Morning."

"So... What's a Camelot man doing so far outside his borders?"

Arthur laughed, sobering quickly. "Well... I have this friend, you see. And he's ill. He was cursed, actually. And I don't know what to do for him. He..." Arthur let his real grief trickle in. "He's not the same man I knew."

"Ah. I see."

"So," Arthur watched him from beneath his lashes, "It wasn't exactly coincidence that brought me here."

Gerard kept shovelling hay calmly. "Oh?"

"Yes. I was hoping... Gerard Gladdance, that you might be able to provide me some assistance."

"Were you know?"

"Yes."

"Well, I know nothing of medicine."

"Magic, Sir."

Gerard finally ceased and looked at Arthur. "Asking these types of questions is treason to your own laws, boy."

"I would risk it. For him."

"You think your love is that strong?"

He coloured. "He's... dear to me. And if you cannot help him and I am discovered, he will not know because his mind is wrecked."

Offering a sad smile, the tension in Gerard's frame melted away. "I can hardly incite a fire with my talents any longer, Arlen. And even if I were at full strength, I doubt I would have the ability to cure illnesses of the mind. I am truly sorry. Your trip was wasted."

Arthur bowed his head. "Thank you for your honesty. I... I need to return home them. You have my word that no one will know the reason I've stopped here or of what we spoke. You are safe."

Gerard nodded, returning to his shovelling. "I believe you."

"Do you..."

"Yes?"

"Is there anyone that you might recommend to me that might be of help for my... problem?" Arthur asked.

The man gave him the same assessing gaze his wife had the previous night. "This is a dangerous question you a—"

"I _know_. But there has to be _some_thing to help him! He... he could do it himself if he weren't so..." Arthur gave up and let his hands drop with a thwack against his thighs.

"You are in earnest about this?"

Arthur just threw him a look.

Gerard chuckled. "I might recommend you to families with surnames beginning with E's, S's, L's, and R's. And all of them are listed in the—"

"I have a list," Arthur interrupted.

"Very well. Then you should know where to look. I wish you luck on your quest."

"Thank you." Arthur nodded and made his way home to Camelot.

He stopped by Gaius' first when he arrived. "How is he?"

Gaius turned to him in surprise. "Welcome home, Sire. Your..." He frowned at him. "Your hair, Sire, is—"

"Don't worry about it. How has he been?"

The physician sighed and shrugged. "The same. Worse when you aren't here, I think. He misses you and becomes restless."

"Thank you, Gaius," he returned dryly with a half-smile. "I am guilted."

This brought a small laugh from the man. "That was not my intent, Sire."

"Of course not. Jeremy is helpful?"

"Yes! Yes, he has been extremely helpful. Thank you."

"Of course."

"They are out now. With the dogs. I think it helps Merlin. To be with creatures. It seems to provide a soothing effect better than any potion I've concocted thus far."

Arthur nodded. "Good, good. Well, I need to unpack and bathe."

"How was hunting, Sire?"

He tilted his head in thought. "Unsucessful for the most part. The future holds promise, however."

"A shame."

"Yes." And Arthur left, ordering a bath, unpacking while he waited for the water to come.

* * *

><p>The bath was refreshing and perfect. The meeting with his father was horrendous and soul-atrophying. He stalked down the hall, angry at his father, angry with Morgana for being difficult, angry at his knights for changing up the routine, angry at Jeremy for laughing with Merlin, angry with Merlin for being so dumb, angry with Merlin for being so self-sacrificing all the time, angry with Merlin for not being himself, angry with Merlin for being too affectionate, angry with Merlin for not smiling properly... Generally he was angry.<p>

He tucked himself into an alcove and just _breathed_ to settle his emotions. Merlin always seemed to feed off of them. And if he was going to see him again later, he would need to be calm.

"Are you hiding, my lord?"

Arthur turned towards Gwen, returning her smile. "Hardly. Composing and collecting myself? Yes."

"I was glad to hear of your return."

Arthur joined her in the hallway proper and fell in step with her towards his chambers.

"You've seen Merlin?"

"I have. Just pried myself away from him."

She smiled and nodded. "He's missed you."

"Oh?"

"Yes. He kept asking, 'Arthur? Arthur gone? Where Arthur? Want Arthur!' He was rather upset about it."

"He seems to be getting on with Jeremy well. I've chosen a good keeper..."

"_Ar_thur..." Gwen said, turning towards him in one of her rare moments of true honesty and perception. "Jeremy is just a substitute. Just you watch. Merlin will be running to your rooms before long."

He burst out laughing. "Thank you, Guinevere. That was... Lovely. Thank you."

She smiled. "Honestly... How could you have thought anything different."

"I'm sorry, Gwen. I've been a bit of a beast. I didn't—it wasn't the best of hunting trips."

She nodded slowly as if trying to discern the secret, smiling when she had not. "I see. Well, I shall see you later, Sire."

Arthur nodded and slipped into his room, pulling out his lists and rearranging his plans until dinner.


	10. Chapter 10

Arthur's next opportunity for a 'hunting trip' was nine days later, Merlin's fit resulting in everything from Arthur's room turning pink.

His excursion to Marden and Golupe Everdyn was as unsuccessful as his visit to the Gladdances. Golupe had passed a year back. So Arthur brought home four hares, two foxes, and six pheasants. His father was proud.

Arthur's next opportunity didn't come until almost a month later. And he'd had to incite Merlin to twist his armour into knots.

Estra Raminquil worked in potions magicks, he discovered. She promised Arthur that if this potion didn't work, she would be able to do nothing more for him.

Arthur rushed his horse, pushing the poor animal and then leaving him carelessly with a groom. Racing to Gaius' rooms once again, the bottle clutched like a last hope in his hand, Arthur blundered in. "Everyone out. Gaius, stay."

"Arthur. You alright?" Gwen asked.

"I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me. I need to speak with Gaius." Arthur frowned, realising this would expose him to the man. But if Merlin were all of a sudden better, he would have to explain himself anyway. Gaius stayed.

The door closed after Jeremy, Gwen, and one of Arthur's younger knights left.

"Sire...? What's this about?" Gaius asked, gaze following Arthur to where he moved, next to Merlin on the floor. Who was magicking tiny dust whirls in circles.

"Merlin."

"Arthur! Home!"

"Merlin, I have a treat for you."

"Arthur," Gaius warned.

Merlin, however, raised his arms, grabbing the air, like small children do when they wished to be picked up by their mother. "For Merlin? Want! Want! Arthur!"

He unstoppered the jar, Gaius' hand grabbing his arm.

"Arthur. What are you doing? Where did you get that?"

Staring, Arthur felt like stone, brittle with the hope he tried relentlessly to quash. This was Merlin. Would always be Merlin. But Arthur wanted _his_ Merlin back. Gaius dropped his arm. "Merlin." He turned back to his friend. "Merlin, drink this for me. It'll make you feel better. Okay?"

Merlin smiled at him and scrambled to his feet, trying to grab it from Arthur's hand.

"Woah, woah... Careful there, Merlin," Arthur said gently. He eased the phial to Merlin's lips, which promptly swallowed the liquid down. Arthur guided him to a chair and sat him down, kneeling in front of Merlin, the other man's hands still gripped in his own.

"Arthur..." Gaius' voice said at his shoulder.

"An experiment," Arthur breathed, hope making him dizzy. "Merlin?"

"Arthur...?"

"Are you...?" He looked into his eyes, searching for that cleverness, that mischievous wit, the bit of Merlin that wasn't dull and clouded. "How do you feel?"

Merlin grinned. "Dizzy."

Some of the hope leeched out and the world was less bright.

"I feel dizzy."

"Merlin?" Gaius edged in, checking his eyes, feeling his pulse.

"What... what's going on? I'm...confused." His hands gripped Arthur's tighter.

"You know me?" The words passed between his lips, hardly more than air.

"Arthur," Merlin said dryly with a fond look that made Arthur's heart ache. "I _always_ know you."

He laughed, suppressing the shakes of his shoulders so they wouldn't turn to sobs. Merlin was the girl after all... "You've no idea... I'm... I'm glad..." They wouldn't come.

"Oh Merlin..." The physician's voice broke.

"Gaius!" Merlin straightened to his feet and hugged the old man, keeping a tight grip on one of Arthur's hands.

Arthur kept grinning until his face hurt. His father could wait. His duties could wait. Everything else could wait. Merlin was back. And he was all Arthur's for the rest of the day and evening. Bringing him up on castle gossip, Arthur laughed and joked, missing this easy companionship that the two of them had shared. When Merlin questioned what had happened, Arthur put it off until Merlin refused to talk to him until he explained. And then he did. Merlin looked vaguely horrified, enough to not mention it again and return to their activities.

The jubilation started to fade as Arthur sat across from Merlin in his room at dinner. "Merlin. I just asked you a question."

"What?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "What do you think about Lord Godric's presence at Camelot for the winter?"

"Lord Godric?"

"Merlin!" Arthur snapped. "This is the _fourth_ time I've asked you this question."

"I'm so—"

"And the _seventh_ time I've told you of Lord Godric." Arthur cut him off, not wanting to hear an apology for what was likely not Merlin's fault. Wasn't _anyone's_ fault. Except for that thrice-damned bloody sorcerer who started all of this in the first place.

"I'm sorry. I'm just..." Merlin massaged his temples, forehead creasing. "I'm just confused. I don't think—"

"You'll be fine. Have some cider," Arthur hurried out, refusing to think of the other explanation.

"I think... I think lie down some..."

"No!"

Merlin looked at him sharply, pain written cross his countenance. "Arthur..."

"Stay until I've finished my wine?" He hated the pleading sound of his voice.

Merlin gave him a tired smile. "Okay."

So Arthur carried on with conversation, becoming more one-sided as Merlin's face became confused for more of the time, his capacity for words shrinking as the candles did the same.

"Merlin tired!" he finally blurted, clapping a hand over his mouth and fleeing next door to his own rooms.

Arthur ran to Gaius' chambers, horrified. "Gaius! It's wearing off! It's not working anymore! He's getting worse!"

Gaius blinked at him. "Wha—ooh. Oh, Arthur... It is... It's as I feared."

"You _knew_ this would happen?"

"No," the physician responded, miserable. "I suspected. Potion magic is... It is rarely equipped to handle cases such as this. Where did you go? Never mind. Don't tell me."

"I can go again. She'll give me another. I'll pay. And.. or you could replicate it. I could—"

"Arthur... It's of no use. It wouldn't be worth it."

"_Merlin_ is worth it!" Arthur thundered.

"Sire—Arthur. Of _course_ he is. But the risk to you is not. This is not our answer."

"No! That isn't right! I'd gladly risk myself—"

"I'm sorry, Sire. But this will not work. By morning, I fear he will be back to how he has been."

"No! _No_!" Arthur slammed his hand down on the worktable, feeling stuck like that first time Gaius had told him it was rather hopeless. "Dammit!" He growled and whirled on a heel to work out his next trip. Carelle Loren was next. He didn't even wait to see Merlin in the morning, instead riding out like monsters from the misty depths were at his heels.

Carelle Loren smiled at him cheerily, eyes blank while her son apologised. Arthur punched the door frame, cursed, apologised, and then asked if she knew anyone who might help. Stephen shook his head and shrugged.

He hurried his horse away and rode straight on for the next person on his list: Deiran Stormhold.

It was late when he arrived, chilled and damp from a brief sun shower, so he didn't hesitate to pound on the door frame until someone answered. "Hello! Excuse me! Hello?"

The door finally opened, revealing a man with evidence of the worries of the world on his face. "What do you want?"

"Could you let me in please? I need a place to sleep for the night," Arthur said, trying for polite through his irritation and frustration.

The old man stared at him a while, unimpressed in a way that made his heart hurt.

"Please?"

"Who wants a place on my floor?"

"My name is Arthur."

The man grunted and finally let him pass. "Finally here, eh?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Son of Pendragon, are you?"

And Arthur had worn a brown shirt and everything. "I'm not here to kill you if that's what you fear."

"I am an old man. We do not fear death."

Arthur snorted. "I need your help actually."

"_My_ help. And with that attitude, I shall surely help you, Sire."

Scowling he shook the moisture from his hair. "Just Arthur. And I'm sorry. But I've... It's been very..._trying_. And my friend needs help."

"Your friend is powerful."

"Not when his mind is shattered."

The man nodded.

"How much do you know," Arthur demanded flatly. "Are you a seer?"

"Of a sorts. It is one of my talents. The other is definitely not healing. Perhaps if your father had not brought the end to a golden age of sharing and learning. Alas. Times past cannot be brought back. I am not the one you should seek for aid."

Arthur swore.

Holding up a hand, the man continued. "I do not know his name, but there is a man just east of Camelot, in a house with a tower by fields of grapes who has the skills that might help your problem. His house is nestled between three hills and the sea."

"I..." He closed his mouth, brow furrowed. "Thank you."

"Of course. Are you hungry?"

Arthur nodded.

"Then sit down, boy."

"I'm hardly—"

"You're hungry?"

"Yes..." Arthur said again dubiously.

"Then sit."

Arthur sat. After dinner, Arthur spent an impatient night on Stormhold's floor. Tossing and turning with thoughts and memories of Merlin. That time he made him impersonate Morgana to get into her room and hide her favourite dresses. The time he challenged him to turn into a dog, but Merlin smirked, turned into a bird and flew away, diving at Arthur's head during practise with the knights so they laughed. Merlin rearranging his room during the night so he was confused in the morning and stubbed his toe no less than seven times. The time he nursed Arthur while he was sick when he was eleven and made flames dance around his head to cheer him up.

Bleary-eyed, Arthur rode back to Camelot, once again to Merlin's side like he had been at Arthur's his entire life. He made Gaius promise to not let his father know that he'd been back and immediately turned around to ride out to a valley cradled by three hills and the sea, full of grapes.

The sun set over the water, distant and fat. Pulling his horse to a stop, the wind whipping through his jacket. There it was. A small curl of smoke. A tower. A house. The last of his hope.

This was the last, he thought. If this man couldn't help, then there was nothing left. Merlin would... Merlin wouldn't... The smell of the sea carried away the rest of his maudlin thoughts for the moment, and he kicked his horse's flanks, heading down the hill towards the house that held his answers, one way or the other.

He was too tired to be surprised when the door opened and a middle-aged man smiled at him sadly. "Arthur."

"Yes."

"I saw you coming."

"Then you know I need your help."

"Bring him."

"Can you cure him?"

"I can try."

Arthur gave a curt nod and then steered his horse back to Camelot.


	11. Chapter 11

"Gaius..."

"Arthur." Gaius turned and smiled at him the same tired smile that he had been smiling since Merlin had taken ill.

"I'm taking him. I...I found someone."

Gaius' eyebrows rose.

"This person thinks that he can cure Merlin."

"Arthur..."

"My hopes aren't up, Gaius. I know that it may not work. This is my last hope," he explained tiredly.

Nodding, Gaius sighed, setting his supplies down and moving around the table towards him. "Jeremy has him out with the dogs."

Arthur nodded. "I'll fetch him, and then let you say goodbye before we go."

"Arthur, this isn't..._dangerous_ is it?"

"I have no idea. I didn't ask." He wished his voice didn't have that detached quality, but Arthur was too tired. It was tiring. And Arthur didn't have the strength to keep up with it.

Gaius watched him a moment, looking at his face like it was some near-indiscernible text. Then he shrugged, deflating. "Take him."

"Gaius—"

"If there is a chance that this can help him, take him. I know... I know you've been searching. And it can't have been easy for you. For anyone. But... I know that you've done your best, Arthur, and for that I thank you from the bottom of my heart. This is Merlin. He is... He's like a son to me. And I want him whole as much as anyone else. Take care of him."

Tears threatened to spill down his cheeks, so he looked away, blinking rapidly. "Right. Of course. I'll fetch him."

Gaius nodded, and his sympathetic smile and suspiciously-red-eyed gaze followed him out.

"Jeremy!" Arthur called as he approached the dog den.

The man looked up, bowed, and grabbed Merlin's arm. "Come along, Merlin," Arthur heard him say gently. "Prince Arthur is back."

"Arthur! Arthur, Arthur, Arthur!" Merlin was up, stumbling across the ground, grinning madly.

Arthur looked away, holding himself stiff as Merlin wrapped himself around Arthur.

"I'm sorry, Sire."

"It's fine, Jeremy," Arthur said softly. "Leave us. I'll take him from here."

Jeremy bowed and left.

"Come on, Merlin. We're going to say bye-bye to Gaius and then go on a journey."

Merlin scrunched up his face. "Jour...ney?"

"Yes. We're going to travel. See other places. Outside of the castle." He pushed Merlin off of him and lead him back to Gaius' workroom. "Here we are then."

"Gai's!" Merlin slurred, racing over to the old man.

"Careful _careful_, Merlin," he laughed, holding the other man and patting his shoulder like comforting a small child. "Shall we get things packed? Do you remember where your bag is? Hm?"

Arthur couldn't watch and was relieved when a servant knocked on Gaius' door and told Arthur that his father needed to see him.

"Yes, Father?" Arthur said respectfully as he entered his father's room. He had been a bit pre-occupied with Merlin, so he owed his father that much. Even if he was past the point of really caring. Formalities at this point. Uther turned from his desk, and Arthur could tell this would be trying just from the expression on his face.

"Arthur. This is the first I've seen of you in what.. Nearly a fortnight?"

"I'm sorry, Father, but I—"

"No. I don't want to hear your excuses. We're going to have dinner tonight. You, myself, and Morgana. I'm tired of this distance. You've been neglecting duties with all of these hunting trips of yours. And while I'm glad for your interest in the sport, I fail to see how this is a better course of action than your studies and training."

Arthur bowed again. "You're right, Father. I'm sorry. I've been remiss."

His father looked surprised. "Yes. Yes, you have. I'll be expecting you for dinner. Now why don't you join the knights. I know you're still a bit put-off by the incident with that... Merlin. However, there's something to be said for getting back into a regimented schedule that helps you push past it all."

"Of course, Father. I shall see you later then." He gave his father a tight smile and bowed, trying to think of words that would tell his father he loved him without sounding too suspicious. Just in case. "Thank you."

Maybe it did the trick. Because his father gave him an appraising look and a nod as he backed out the door and went to prepare the horses.

* * *

><p>Travel! Itchy...scratching, no no no! "Heavy!" Tight heavy back<p>

"Merlin! Stop wriggling!" Gaius

"Heavy!"

"Cease that whining."

"Gaius, is he ready to go?"

Arthur! Arthur_Arthur_Arthur! Love hug Arthur Whooshing sound Gaius? Gaius Silly Merlin hug hug Arthur Like Arthur

"Yes, Sire. Merlin, leave the poor man alone a moment."

"No! Mine Arthur. Arthur mine!"

Warm laughing noise Arthur laughing!

"Merlin, we're going for a ride. Remember horses?"

"Biiiiig! Big brown!"

"Yes. I guess that would be it."

Hold tight to Arthur Arthur leave

"We're going to be riding horses. Together. You and I."

Horses big! "Okay! Go! Go go!"

Arthur smiled. "Follow me then. Take my hand?"

Squeeze hand tight Follow! Stairs! Stairs—no no no no NO NO NO _NO!_ "NO NO NO NO NO!"

"Merlin! What's the matter? Come on! Come down the stairs. Stop that yelling!"  
>"Bad<em>bad<em>! Stairs evil bad!" Bad evil stairs bad can't no not going! Arthur unhappy can't Arthur unhappy can't go don't want—Arthur unhappy! Step take step one step go go go—can't!

"Merlin...! Stop wailing, you giant girl!"

Face hot tears Arthur's face close kiss no don't crying crying now

"Merlin. Merlin, stop it. Here. Take my hand. We're going down the stairs together. Alright? Together. You and me. Let's go. There's a boy. One at a time. Come on then."

Sweet so sweet heart full lovely—one at a time _One at a time_ Keep going Don't want—magic! Magic down the stairs—Merlin laughed.

"Bloody... Dammit, Merlin. That's _not _what magic is for. You've told me a million times."

Sneaky Merlin so sneaky. Walls rough walls strong and sturdy Strong walls hide secrets Could talk and gain access to secrets—Arthur pulling stumble laugh bit—wait wait "Wait!"

"Arthur! Merlin!" Happy friends more happy!

"Morgana." Arthur quiet voice Sad but happy "Gwen."

"You're taking him somewhere?" Gwen confused Sweet sweet Gwen worry smooth crease

"I'm...I'm taking him to get help. I hope." Arthur worry

Merlin stepped close to Gwen, smoothing his thumb over the crease between her brows, and tugged at the corners of her mouth with his fingers.

Laughing! Laughing Merlin too! Gwen laugh

"We trust you, Arthur." Morgana worry also "Bring him back better. Both of you."

"You're having dinner with Father. I'm supposed to be there. Make..._some_ excuse for me. I don't care."

"Of course. Be safe."

"Take care, my lord."

Arthur smile touch touch Arthur Arthur sad?

"Of course. I hope I'll see you soon."

Tight smiles Sad smiles Merlin frown

"We should get going. Before Father figures out that I've lied to him. Come on, Merlin."

Warm hand again "Bye! Bye bye! Bye Morgie 'n Gwen!" More laughter


	12. Chapter 12

Arthur pulled their horses to a halt as they crested the hill down which the sorcerer's house lay. It had taken him almost twice as long to reach the place as last time, what with Merlin's fits and needs.

"Welcome back," the man said when they reached the door.

"This is—"

"Merlin."

Merlin looked up at his name, tugging at his hair whilst trying to chew off a knuckle. "Far 'way!"

"Yes, Merlin. We're far from home." Arthur turned back to the man. "I don't... I'm sorry. I don't even know your name."

"William."

"Will!" Merlin exclaimed, reaching with hands.

"Not the same, Warlock."

Arthur pulled Merlin against his chest, restraining him. "I'm sorry."

"No need to apologise, Prince. Bring him in. Let me take a look at him."

Arthur nodded and man-handled Merlin into the house, taking in the surroundings. It was small and cozy. Lived-in. Smelled rather like Gaius' workroom.

"Settle the boy here." The man gestured at a stool, stroking his beard. "He is more powerful than I'd thought."

"Is that a problem?"

"It..." The man glanced at him and then spread his hands. "We shall have to see." He turned then, spending some time puttering amongst his instruments and potions and muttering words while his hands fluttered around Merlin. Finally he sighed and slouched back on another stool. Merlin traced fire patterns into the air. "I can't."

"What?"

"I can't help you."

"What do you mean you can't help?" Arthur demanded.

"I cannot help you. It would be—"

"Well I _order_ you to," Arthur grit through clenched teeth. All of this hope that had insinuated its way into his heart, Arthur was not going to be told 'no.' "Or I will execute you myself!"

William met Arthur's eyes, startled. "You—"

"If you're not going to tell me that you've changed your mind, then you should kneel and bow your head so I might cut it off now," he threatened, low and serious.

"These things are not so simple, Arthur Pendragon."

"You _told _me that you could help him, so _do it_, dammit!"

"There is only one method that might, and I repeat_ might_ help him."

"Well, then what are you waiting for!"

"Have patience, for pity's sake!" William whirled to pace a quick circle and huffed a breath. "There is no simple spell. It will require preparation. There is also... a great _personal_ risk that I will be taking. Also, risk to young Merlin here."

Arthur bit at his thumb nail, thoughts quickfire through his mind. "I—b"

"Make your decision careful. There is much to weigh."

"Would you do it?"

"Pardon?"

Arthur waved a hand towards Merlin. "If one of the most important people to you were rendered thus, would you take the risk?"

The man's expression softened. "I would not seek to sway your choice with my answer."

"He's hardly much good to me like this, is he," he said harshly.

William nodded. "Perhaps not. But do you still take comfort from his presence in your life?"

Arthur was silent a moment. Then. "Yes. But no." He shook his head. "Do it.'

"Very well."

"Do you need assistance with anything?"

Shaking his head, the sorcerer moved into another room, returning with an armful of items, gesturing that he and Merlin should follow. He lead them into a round stone room, floored with wood. Whispering a word, everything arranged itself against the walls, while William knelt and began drawing symbols on the floor.

Merlin became restless, whining and sagging in Arthur's arms.

"Here." William stood and crossed the room with a bowl and a knife. "I need a bit of his blood, and then you should probably take a walk to relax him. The magic probably makes him uncomfortable."

Arthur stiffly held Merlin's hand still while the man cut his finger with the blade, squeezing the blood into the bowl. Merlin whined some more and muttered unintelligibly, his head falling back on Arthur's shoulder. He lead him outside when William was finished with him.

He returned about an hour later, dragging a tired and cranky Merlin after him.

"I am ready," William called as soon as they entered the door. When he saw Arthur, he smiled. "Are you?"

Arthur had ridden into battle many times. He had commanded armies. He had seen men die useless bloody deaths on the field. He had never feared for his life. If it was his lot to die on the field, then so be it. But that was what had his stomach coiled into knots. It wasn't for his life that he feared. Arthur took a deep breath. It was Merlin's. Always Merlin's. "I'm ready."

"No you're not."

"Well, this is as close as it's going to get," he snapped, keeping his spine straight.

"If you have changed your—"

"I haven't."

William dipped his head and then took Merlin's hand, leading him to the centre of the circle and pushed him to his knees. "Arthur, I need you to stay out of the circle. This is important."

Arthur nodded and watched, gripping his knees hard enough to bruise, while William walked the circle, eyes flashing gold as he whispered words. Words that Merlin used to whisper in his ear as he did magic. He watched William circle closer and closer to Merlin, finally stopping right in front of him, placing his hands on either side of Merlin's face. Standing, he strode outside the circle to better see William push his thumbs against Merlin's temples, muttered words suddenly legible and louder as his eyes glowed more fiercely.

Merlin, who had been sitting nicely, was now squirming. The squirming turned to whining as he gripped William's wrists.

William's words grew louder and got faster.

Merlin's squirming turned to writhing, hoarse cries pouring forth from his mouth.

"William! You're hurting him!" Arthur snapped.

William didn't answer, chanting his magic phrases over and over.

Arthur took a step closer, but William's hand flew out to stop him. Merlin was screaming in short spurts, trying to jerk away from William's hold, legs kick out, seeking purchase on the smooth wood.

"_William_! You're _hurting_ him! Stop it!" Arthur barked, his foot crossing the outer circle.

Then everything exploded.

Even as Arthur flew backwards, he could admit it was a beautiful light display, all gold and blue swirling light. Of course then it all went dark.

.

.

.

.

_END PART TWO_


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